Review of Notting Hill (1999) by Marat P — 13 Nov 2010

I fell in love with Julia Roberts all over again. Not her character, mind you; that would have to share kudos with the writing, and this was all Ms. Roberts. No; with her shyness, her regret over her temperament, with an earnest smile that seems to well from the very essence of her being that sparks a natural radiance onscreen. This, ladies and gentlemen, is star power, that oft-talked about but rarely witnessed value that separates the flavors-of-the-moment from the genuine article. That ability for a performer to, despite all the baggage she (or he) carries in the press, for that moment stand on screen and disarm you with charm and affability. And Julia Roberts hasn't been this natural and charming since her last film before she became "Julia Roberts" - 'Pretty Woman' (1990). And because she's so open, so vulnerable, so human, so gosh-darn lovable, you hate the regular bloke who comes along and sweeps her off her feet, for making you feel all the more a loser for partaking in the most voyeuristic sense from the safety of your couch.

Except, of course, you can't hate Hugh Grant, that most regular bloke of movie stars. Grant is woefully underrated - sure, he hasn't really stretched his range or gone for broke in the time since his American breakthrough ('Four Weddings & A Funeral'), but what he does is actually so hard because he's supposed to make it look so easy and so natural, which he always does. His best role - and best film - will, I'm certain, always remain 'About A Boy', but he delivers the goods here, even if this is the first time I can remember him being outshone by a costar (Julia Roberts).

The film has flaws. It is a tad too long, and the pacing suffers at times. Rhys Ifans, one of my favorite elements the first few times I saw it, is exposed as a desperate punchline in just about every scene he's in. Maybe I've become too jaded and critical, but I felt his character (more often a caricature) was inserted to draw laughs so that the romantic plot between the leads could remain more honest and less 'jokey'. And I'm grateful for that, b'cos it is that honesty that really makes the film work, but I feel bad at times for Ifans, who comes out swinging marvelously in a part that is little more than a barely disguised device.

It isn't all bad, though. Visually, this is a superbly shot film; nothing outstanding though - save for the nighttime shot in the garden, transforming from a level shot into a dizzying aerial of the two lovers; the mise en scene and staging in this moment, with Grant strolling away from her before she calls him back, is BEAUTIFUL. Aurally, it's romantic soundtrack is gorgeous and perfectly fitting, making even the likes of Boyzone and - yes, even - Shania Twain appealing.

Director Roger Michell is however prone to dwelling on the saccharine, and it saps a lot of power in certain moments of 'Notting Hill'; the climax, which works surprisingly brilliantly despite its cliched 'big speech' vibe, is undermined by the moments of everyone kissing everyone else, a theme he pushed to its diabetic-coma inducing max in 'Love Actually', the worst film of his I've seen. (He made amends with 'Venus', arguably his best film, so all is forgiven).

But none of this matters, as Roberts and Grant prove to be as inspired a pairing as any in recent memory. In fact, I can picture no one else playing either part, and am convinced it would've fallen spectacularly flat if either player was replaced. And that is the highest compliment I can give. It is a touching role-reversal Cinderella story, bringing Roberts full circle to 'Pretty Woman', with her being the finished article and Grant being the pleb who is discovered to be good enough for royalty. And as much as I found myself utterly in love with Roberts throughout the 124min run time (told you it was long), pining for her when she was off-screen, lost in her beauty and presence when she was on it, I really, really wanted things to go well for her and Grant (the only reason the ending montage works so damn well, when it should really be a saccharine trainwreck). And that, I suppose, is the definition of love.